


H+D, forever

by Humbleapplecrumble



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, First Kiss, Get Together, One Shot, Short One Shot, Young Love, dramione - Freeform, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-06
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22151341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Humbleapplecrumble/pseuds/Humbleapplecrumble
Summary: Hermione and Draco were childhood sweethearts. They drifted apart after their first year at Hogwarts, but she found him again when he needed her most.Broken and vulnerable Draco in the brewing of the war, and supportive Hermione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, dramione
Comments: 2
Kudos: 68





	H+D, forever

Before the madness, before the hate, they were meant to be together. 

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger identified each other as the one and the same on the day they met.  
“I’m going to be the best, you know,” he’d bragged.   
She studied him: she’d never met a boy who wanted to achieve anything before. “I mean, I’m sure you’ll try,” she shrugged. She raised her eyebrows at him and he gave her his hardest stare, but a smirk escaped his inexperienced lips. 

She thought he was incredible.   
He thought she was perfect.

Occasionally they’d sit together in the library and share their knowledge with the other. They’d talk about their lives and the incredible things they would conquer in the future. He left notes on her desk telling her he loved her, and she’d write “I heart DLM” in the corners of his textbooks. They were only children, but their love felt as real as anyone else’s. 

But their paths began to cross less and less as their differing lives intervened. As the years passed, Draco grew to be cold, and she grew to hate what he stood for. 

They very much went their separate ways at Hogwarts. They were a distant memory; their shared secret. 

Now a man, Draco was one of the most dominant characters in the castle. He sat across from her in the great hall, amongst his emerald crested peers, but that day he stood out for the wrong reasons. It wasn’t his intention, clearly, but his lack of enthusiasm or any remote interest was so unlike him. Unlike them. He stared blankly at the table while the boys around him cheered, like he hadn’t heard Dumbledore’s announcements of the current point leaders at all. 

And then she started to notice everything. She saw him from her window at night, alone in the dark, his personality fading away. He became thinner, paler, and more cruel.

A week later, she could stand by no longer. She spotted him alone at the bridge outside the castle doors as the sun went down, and seized her opportunity. Storming to him so he couldn’t escape, she made her plea. 

“Are you alright?”  
He jumped at her presence before looking at her in disgust. He didn’t gift her with a response, simply looked away, so she continued.   
“I’ve seen you, Draco.” She tilted her head, pleading for his eye contact but he refused her.   
“What the hell are you talking about?” he spat, keeping his eyes ahead of him.   
“In the archway, I’ve seen you from the tower,” she replied. “Every night. You mustn’t be sleeping, surely.”   
His eyes snapped to hers wildly. “I’m fine,” he lied. “Keep out of it.” He span in the other direction and stormed away purposefully while she watched. 

She lay in bed uneasily, unable to get her mind off the silver-haired boy. 

If only to ease her insomnia, she ventured to the very archway she’d peered at on previous nights. Sure enough, he stood in the darkness looking into the night. But he’d sensed her.   
“What did I tell you, Granger,” he uttered.   
“Draco, please,” she urged, stepping towards him. “Let me help you.”  
He turned towards her, his eyes swollen with tears. It was a monumentally unfamiliar look on his face. “You can’t help me. No one can help me.” He sat, almost collapsing on the ground, dropping against the stone floor and leaning against the balcony wall. “Trust me, you’re better off out of it.”  
She continued to close the proximity. “Please,” she said again, now in front of his limp body. She sat next to him, desperate to offer some comfort to the broken Slytherin boy.   
Malfoy blinked hard, forcing tears to fall over his cheeks. “This isn’t good for you, Granger,” he said. She felt it was a warning, more than a threat. Still, something in her heart would not let her leave.   
“I don’t care.”  
He looked at her for a moment before falling into her arms. She wrapped them around him tightly and held him while he sobbed, still no clue why, but it didn’t matter. Eventually his tears stopped and she felt him become heavy, his exhaustion getting the better of him as he drifted off in her lap.

The following morning, Ginny had burst into her room with a small, thin parcel. “This was left for you, ‘Mione.”  
The flowered tissue paper shimmered as she stripped it away, revealing a beautiful quill. The green colour and elegant, golden nib told her exactly who this gift came from.   
Potions was ahead that day, one of the few times she knew he’d be there. When she looked around the room he was already watching her, so she smiled. She lifted the quill in question; the emerald feathers glinting in the light. He nodded gently; this was a gift as she expected. He was a traditional boy, but she gratefully accepted it. 

That night she found him again. 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he uttered.   
“That’s okay,” she assured. “Let’s just sit.”  
They sat for a while when she felt his cold fingers lay over hers, so she widened them to let their hands intertwine. They still stayed silent, but felt something shift. 

They began to meet every night in the black archway. Sometimes they talked and sometimes they didn’t. 

Sometimes she took a book. “Teach me something,” he’d request. She obliged every time. 

Weeks passed and finding her lost boy had become habit. She’d become used to the late nights, much preferring to spend her time in Draco’s quiet company than in bed alone, or listening to Ron’s tales of Lavender that were seemingly becoming more disgusting. She relaxed when she was with him, grateful for the recovering friendship with a boy she once knew so well. 

For the first time, she’d arrived at their spot first. His heart lifted when he saw her there, and sat as closely to her as he could. 

She felt his eyes on her and turned to meet them, their faces closer than ever before. He brushed her hair behind her ear delicately before placing his lips on hers. She leaned towards him, eager to kiss him back, but he pulled away and snapped his head from her.   
“Wait,” he demanded, in turmoil. “I can’t. I... I need to tell you something, before...”   
Hermione looked at him longingly and his eyes welled up like she’d seen many times now.

“What do you think of when you look at me?” He was visibly sweaty, with bloodshot eyes that were dark underneath.   
She knew. She played it over in her head before recalling it and smiled. “I think of the time we were waiting to be sorted, and you told me it would be okay. I didn’t even tell you I was scared, but you knew.”  
“I was right.”  
She nodded. “Are you? Okay?”  
He started to nod, then shook his head. “No, Hermione, I’m not.”  
She slipped her hand into his, trying her best to offer comfort. “Do you remember when you held my hand in our first year?”  
He let out a very small chuckle. “Of course. You were pissed off because you weren’t the best in charms class. I held your hand and told you that you were.”  
She nodded and squeezed his fingers.   
“Again, I was right.”  
“That’s who I remember, Draco,” she said, forcing him to find her eyes. “My memories of you then are far stronger than anything else you’ve done.”  
“But why? I fucked it, Hermione. I did everything wrong. I don’t know what to do now.”  
“I don’t believe you,” she said softly. 

His eyes welled up again and he blinked hard in an attempt to rid them. “This is different,” he choked. Using his free hand, he pulled at his sleeve and revealed the dark mark that lay beneath.   
She stared in awe. She had never seen one so close. She took a breath.   
“It’s just a mark, Draco,” she urged, running a finger along his forearm as the mark swam unnervingly. “It’s not who you are.”  
“I didn’t want to tell you,” he admitted, his voice choking. “I’m so,” he started, sniffing, “I’m so sorry, Hermione.”  
She lifted her fingers to his face, guiding his face directly to her, and looked back at him. “It doesn’t own you, Draco,” she whispered. “Not if you don’t let it.”

He let his sleeve fall over his skin and pulled her towards him, kissing her harder this time. She felt the salty kick of his tears that had now mixed with her own as she realised just why Draco had been here all of these nights. To retrieve his breath, he pulled away and wiped tears from her cheeks, and she in turn did the same to him.

“I can’t believe you’ve been dealing with this alone,” she said, trying to sound strong for him.   
“I haven’t,” he choked. “Despite me being an incredible bastard to you, you still knew I needed you. I can’t even understand it,” he trailed off to wipe another set of tears from his face. “I owe you so much. And one day, one day soon, I’ll tell you everything.”  
Hermione embraced him tightly, then stood, holding out her hand. “Let’s go,” she said gently, and he obeyed. 

When they arrived at the Slytherin dormitory, he kept a tight grasp on her hand. “Don’t leave me,” he asked vulnerably. “Stay. Everyone in my room is home for Christmas.” He knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. “Stay with me, just for tonight.”  
Hermione nodded and followed him to his room. He climbed into his bed and she followed, wrapping an arm over him and pulling him so his back was tightly against her chest. She felt his heart thumping, and it tormented her to imagine the nights he’d spent alone. He fell asleep immediately in her embrace and she soon followed, intoxicated in the scent of his skin. 

The next morning, Hermione woke first, leaving Draco to enjoy a few more blissful moments of escape. She flicked through the books on his shelf until she found one that peaked her interest. Hogwarts: A History. She flicked through twice before she found what she was looking for. A neat little heart in the corner of page 371 with tiny letters that read ‘H+D forever’ inside. She smiled at the memory and brushed a finger over it.   
“Feels so long ago, doesn’t it,” he murmured, still half-asleep but now sat on the edge of the bed.   
She sat beside him, their bodies connected at every point. “And at the same time, like it was yesterday.”  
He leant his head against her shoulder.  
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered.   
“I believe you.”

***

After the war, it was incredible how quickly they’d slipped into domestic habits. One evening in January, she lay across his chest, the crackling fire warming the room. Their clothes became disheveled and she glanced at the rough, scarred skin on his forearm that poked from his jumper; what was left of the dark mark. Noticing, he tugged at the sleeve and she grabbed his wrist gently. “You don’t have to do that,” she whispered.   
He swallowed before responding. “It reminds me that I’m not good enough for you.”  
Hermione traced his jawline with her finger. He’d grown a little stubble and she loved the way it made him look. “It reminds me that you’ll do anything for your family, even if you have to put them before yourself. It reminds me that you’re capable of incredible love. And it reminds me that every decision you made from then on led me back to you.”  
He brushed a curl behind her ear and kissed her gently so that her chest tightened. The man she knew now barely resembled the shivering boy she’d found in the tower.   
He looked at her like she’d saved his life, and he knew that she had. The most unlikely, bookish witch had found him when he needed her the most. 

He smiled at the thought of the silver ring he’d had made for her, tucked away in his cloak that hung at the door. He was keeping it on him at all times, unsure of just when and how to ask her, but knowing that he must. He’d decided not to give her the Malfoy ring that his ancestors had passed on - this would be no regular Malfoy bride - assuming she said yes. He designed it with her at the forefront of his mind, a simple gleaming silver band with a rough, unpolished black diamond, held by four tiny prongs, the perfect ring to reflect their two unlikely souls. 

He leant his lips against her temple and rested them there, closing his eyes and pulling her closely. She sighed against him and tucked her head into the nape of his neck. His sleeve had once again fallen to reveal his torn skin, but he left it this time. He swore he could never see it as the very thing that led him back to Hermione, but as she lay in his arms, he could not see it any other way. 

He took a breath and swallowed. “Can I ask you a question?”

**Author's Note:**

> Dramione addict and proud! Thank you for reading :)


End file.
